Riley
by January in June
Summary: Ensign Justine Riley was happy on the Enterprise, until a mysterious woman arrived and destroyed Justine's past, present, and very humanity - and thrust Justine between a man who isn't allowed to love her, and a man who simply can't. Sequel to "Ensign"
1. Mother

"Ensign Riley, knock it off and put your bracelet back on."

Justine immediately looked guilty and strapped the android converter back around her wrist. The laughing group of ensigns dispersed at Geordi's disapproving tone.

Recently, Justine had discovered that the genetic anomaly that sometimes gave her seizures also allowed her to make the warp coil sing at different pitches, if she rested her fingers against the bulwarks. Justine had been in the middle of a rather off-key version of "The Old Man Went to Risa" when Geordi interrupted her.

"Have you finished the negative power coupling analysis?" Geordi asked.

"No sir," Justine ducked her head to hide her blush.

"Then let's spend more time with the potentiostat and less time with the space chanteys. I want that report before you leave, all right, Ensign?"

"Sir, yes sir," she said softly, and turned to go about her work without looking up. Geordi swallowed. He hated chastising the ensigns, but a starship needed discipline. He made his way back to the dilithium chamber to complete his own analysis. He opened the cradle chamber and began scanning the backup crystals.

No need to write Justine up for an infraction, he thought, as he ran his tricorder over the crystals. She was almost always on task, and the same silliness that caused her to play with the warp coils gave her an easy rapport with the rest of the crew. Just yesterday, she'd managed to get Barkley to smile with her spot-on impression of air in the vacuum seal – "Mwaugh mwuagh mwuagh..." Geordi chuckled, in spite of himself.

His tricorder chimed. All done. He saved the data and strolled back to his office, humming "The Old Man," under his breath without realizing.

Geordi's office was sparse, but familiar and friendly, and he tossed his tricorder down casually before easing into his chair and leaning back with a sigh.

Ensign Riley arrived a few moments later, bearing a data screen. "Lieutenant, do you have a moment?"

"Of course."

"I can't make sense of this coupling analysis," she handed him the screen, shaking her head in annoyance. Her dark brown curls swung back and forth in their ponytail, and Geordi caught himself staring, staring at her easy curls, at the spackling of freckles across her nose, at the set of tiny, frustrated lips. He tore his gaze away from her face, grateful for the VISOR that kept his line of vision to himself. He scanned the data screen.

"It's the coolant system – it's gone offline." Geordi pointed at the screen. "See here, this dip at 76 degrees?"

Justine leaned over to see, and she was close enough that Geordi could smell her perfume, or maybe it was shampoo. Vanilla. He pulled back and handed the viewscreen back to Justine. "Just divert a little more power to the coolant and we'll be back in business."

Justine broke into a smile. "Thanks." She turned to leave. Geordi watched her go.

That night, Geordi dreamt of Justine. He woke up the following morning, sweating and embarrassed, Justine's voice ringing in his ears. The dream had been vivid, and highly inappropriate for a commanding officer. Geordi cringed as he realized he'd have to face Justine today. He threw aside the bedclothes, hoping a cool shower before work would help.

It didn't. Geordi managed to avoid Ensign Riley, but he couldn't help catching glimpses of her throughout the day, and it was enough to make him slightly sick with embarrassment. He looked forward to the end of the day, when engineering would quiet down, when he could be by himself and the hum of the warp coil. No distractions.

Justine was at her terminal, talking to Barkley, her lips in their characteristic thin lines, her hands curled in front of her, animatedly. Barkley said something to her, and she chirruped back, and Barkley laughed and punched her lightly on the shoulder. Justine guffawed and turned back to her terminal.

Geordi looked away. No distractions.

Night fell – or at least, as much as night could fall on the Enterprise. The ensigns were the first to go, heading out in groups of three or four to Ten Forward. Then the officers with families, and finally even the Barkley types were gone, off to the holodecks or the mess hall or the quiet comfort of private quarters.

Geordi's footsteps echoed, and he took a deep breath. This is when he liked the engine room best, when it vibrated with sound and shook with a quiet emptiness. It felt so abandoned that Geordi was shocked to turn the corner and find Justine. She was crouched down beside an open panel, one hand on her tricorder, the other hand slowly rotating the coolant system intake valve.

"Ensign, what are you still doing here?" Geordi's voice rang more accusatory than he meant it to be.

"Can't align this properly." Justine dropped her tricorder with an exasperated snort and rocked back on her heels. She looked up at Geordi's scowl and lost her confidence. "I mean, eh, sir, lieutenant."

Geordi had to smile and her awkward attempt at rank. "Drop the formalities. Let's take a look." He dropped down beside her. "Show me what you've got so far."

"I've been following the standard protocol for alignment, but then, when I release the drive shaft…" She did, and the coolant system immediately whined and ground to a halt.

Geordi could feel his brows knit together beneath the visor. "Does that every time?"

"Every time."

Two hours later, the coolant system still a mess, Geordi sat back with a sigh. "I don't understand it either, Ensign."

Justine put her chin in her hand and blew a raspberry. "Well, if Mr. Engineering himself doesn't understand it, that makes me feel better." She nudged Geordi with her shoulder, playfully.

Geordi felt a lump rise in his throat. She grinned right at him, close enough to touch. To kiss? He searched her eyes, trying to read emotion, or intention, but all through his blind eyes.

The computer chirruped, shocking Geordi out of his reverie. "Transporter room to Ensign Riley."

Justine stiffened and tapped her comlink. "Riley here."

"You mother has just arrived in Transporter Room 3."

"My… mother?"

"Yes, your mother."

"I'll be right there." Justine looked at her watch and her face blanched white. "It's twenty one hundred hours!"

"You… weren't expecting your mother?"

"No!" Justine stood, distracted. "Oh, God, do you think something happened?"

Geordi stood as well. "I'll come with you."

Justine reached out and gripped his upper arm. "Thank you," she breathed. "Can we go now?"

"Of course."

Justine's face lost more and more of its color as their footsteps thudded rapidly through the hallways. She didn't say another word, but pulled at her fingers in a highly uncharacteristic gesture.

The doors to the transporter room hissed open and Justine stopped short, glancing around the room, brows knit together.

There were two people stepping off the transporter pad – a heavyset woman with white hair in tight, short mohawk, and a long, lanky man in a gray suit with a thick gray suitcase.

Justine turned to the transporter operator. "You said my mother was here?"

"I am," the woman said, with a smirk. "Hello, Justine."

Justine shook her head. "You're not my mother. There's been some mistake."

"Mmm, yes, I thought there might be some difficultly," the woman said. "Mr. Eel, if you please."

The gray man unsnapped his suitcase and leveled a phaser at Justine.

"Down!" Geordi yelled, toppling Justine. The phaser sizzled above them and Justine shrieked.

"Security to transporter three!" Geordi shouted, shielding Justine. "Security to transporter room three!"


	2. J375

Geordi did not let go of Justine, even long after security had arrived and arrested the two intruders. Justine's heart was still racing, despite the safety of a security detail, Commander Riker, and Counselor Troi.

"Never seen her before in my life," Justine repeated. She shuddered, and Geordi tightened his grip on her shoulder. She reached up and wound her fingers around his. "If you don't mind, I'd like to call my mother."

"Of course," Troi spun her computer around, and Justine spoke her mother's ident information aloud. The computer chirped. "Call could not be placed as dialed."

With a gulp, Justine repeated the request, much slower.

"Call could not be placed as dialed." The computer repeated.

Geordi could see the blood drain from her face. Justine swallowed and spoke again. "Computer, contact Jessica Riley, lieutenant, USS Iliad."

"No record of aforementioned personnel aboard the Iliad."

"What?" Justine's voice rose an octave. "My sister! Jessica! On the Iliad!"

"Computer," Troi cut in, calmly. "Locate Lieutenant Jessica Riley, previously of the USS Iliad."

"No record of aforementioned personnel in Starfleet."

"What? What? No! My sister!" Justine laughed, high and rapid. "My mother! Is this a joke?" A cold sweat broke out on Justine's forehead. "Very funny guys, very funny."

"Do you know your sister's identity pin?" Commander Riker asked.

"447 894 268 112," Justine spat the number out.

"Identity pin invalid." The computer chirruped.

"Invalid!" Justine screamed and stood. "Where is that woman, that woman that shot me, what has she done to my sister?" She fought her way out of Geordi's grip.

"Get the captain," Riker said softly to the nearest security officer. "Now."

* * *

No one could find any record of any of Justine's family.

Not her mother, her sister, her younger brother still in grade school in Vermont, United States, Earth. Not even the Ithican grandmother who refused to leave her homeworld. Every relative Justine ever knew of had disappeared, in an instant.

Picard stood before the brig with his senior officers in tow – Worf, Riker, and Troi forming a barrier between the mysterious white woman and Justine, who was still trembling. Geordi hovered behind the security officers.

"It's very simple," the white woman said across the brig shield. "I created Justine. She is my daughter. She is _perfect_, isn't she? You've analyzed her DNA, it's a _palindrome_. Can you even appreciate what a feat of engineering that is?"

"We know full well that Justine is not your daughter." Picard said. "We are asking if you have any involvement in the sudden disappearance of her family."

"Justine has no family. I created her. Her neural networks supplied her with false memories. She's an organic android, fully programmed with a lifetime of remembrances."

"You liar," Justine spat, peering between Troi and Riker. "I talked to my mother yesterday."

The white woman smiled, and raised her wristwatch to her mouth. She spoke through it and her voice changed – it was higher, softer, more feminine. "Hello Justine, honey bunny. How was engineering today? Did you get the thermal valve to align?"

Justine gasped. "How… how… you've monitored my calls? Matched mommy's voice?"

"No Justine," this time the woman's voice was a little deeper. "I am your Mommy. And your Jessica." The voice changed again, to a little boy's with a lisp. "Even baby bwother Bwian."

"No," Justine breathed. "No! Murderer!"

"They never existed, Justine." The white woman smirked at Picard. "If you want further proof, I tattooed her, just behind her right ear. It says 'J375.'"

Justine grabbed her ear. "It does not."

"Check."

No one moved. No one spoke. Finally, Justine turned to Troi. "Does it?" she whispered, her eyes bright with fear. Troi moved closer, gently turned Justine's head, and pushed back her ear flap with one finger.

"Oh, Gods," Troi whispered. "J375."

Justine began to pant with fear. "It's not true. I know it's not true."

"Even more proof, Justine? I can cut your strings and expose the puppet that you are. Activate code 43, authorized Miranda."

Justine collapsed, hitting the floor so quickly it was as if she were thrown down. With a gasp, Troi fell beside her and felt for a pulse. "Medical emergency to the brig, officer down, no pulse! Medical emergency!"

"No need," the white woman said calmly. "Deactivate code 43, authorized Miranda."

Justine sat up with a gasp, a bruise purpling on one cheek.

"You see, Justine? I built you. I created you. You are my masterpiece and it's time to come home. With me."

"You have no claim on her!" Picard barked. "She's an officer and a grown woman, and -"

"A grown woman?" the white woman shrieked with laughter. "Justine is four years old."


	3. Denial

Geordi remembered her eyes. She was sitting at the bar in ten forward. Was it two weeks ago, or three? It didn't matter, he remembered her eyes, flicking up to meet his gaze, a smile lingering on her lips, her fingers wrapped around a drink. Her eyes were dark, and laughing.

"Ensign Riley," Geordi said. "Mind if I sit?"

"Uh." Justine's smile faded slightly. "Sure, lieutenant."

He slid in beside her. "What are you drinking?"

"Oh, uh, Metachlodian gin." Justine tipped the glass to get a better look at the pale pink liquor. "It's very sweet." She looked over her shoulder to see a group of ensigns carousing their way into ten forward. "Excuse me, lieutenant, my friends are here." Without looking back she left to meet them.

Geordi turned back to the bar, feeling slighted.

"Don't," Guinan said, reading his mind again. She slid him a drink.

Geordi took it. "Don't what?"

"I've seen that look," Guinan teased. "She likes you fine. But don't _you_ stiffen up when the boss comes to visit?"

Geordi felt his sour mood dissolve. He smirked. "I'm no Captain Picard."

"I doubt your ensigns feel that way. Drink up."

Geordi tossed the drink back, brooding on Justine and her dark, laughing eyes.

* * *

Three weeks into the future those eyes had changed. The laughter in them disappeared and the dark pupils were now an empty void. No one had been able to stop Justine as she ran from the brig, tearing off her comlink and throwing it in a corner. The security detail found her work jacket halfway down another hallway. While Picard dispatched a team to find her, Geordi slipped quietly away. He knew where she was.

He found her in the third access tunnel under the engine, ripping out the paneling and running her tricorder over the exposed wiring. She glanced at Geordi briefly, her face blank, eyes empty. "Oh, hello, lieutenant. I think I've found the problem for the thermal regulator. If I can just manually adjust the ionic linkages…" she grunted and thrust her hands deep into the wiring. Without her work jacket her arms were bare to her shoulders.

"Justine," Georid said quietly. "You need to come out of there."

"No, no, this will work, I'm sure." She wiped one hand across her cheek, spreading a grease stain. "If I can just…"

A sudden shower of sparks sent Justine rocking backwards.

"Justine, you're not helping."

"Don't tell me what I'm not doing!" She shrieked, and threw her tricorder at him. It clattered uselessly at his feet. "Don't tell me anything! This is important. I have to do this, I have to fix this."

"Justine…"

"I'm not her daughter." Justine's lip trembled. "I'm not. I have a family. The computer's … gone wacky, it's done that before, tomorrow I'll call my mommy." She pressed her back against the engine and slid to a sit, arms limp across her knees, all her energy suddenly drained.

Geordi sat beside her and opened his arms without speaking. Justine leaned stiffly into his embrace.

"Engine sounds nice," she breathed, and closed her eyes.

The security team found them half an hour later, shining their flashlights into the access tunnel. Geordi put one hand up to block the light. "She's sleeping," he whispered.

Troi's concerned face came into view. "Let's get her out of here."


	4. Anger

Justine woke alone. She was still in uniform, but someone had covered her with a blanket and removed her shoes. She stood up, slowly, and looked around. Pictures covered her walls, her nightstand. Pictures of her mother. Her sister. Her brother. Pictures of the four of them at the beach, in the gardens, in Paris. Justine sat in front of her computer. She took a deep breath. "Computer, call home."

Troi was napping in the next room when she heard the crash. She burst in to find Justine throwing her computer against the wall.

"It's not TRUE!" Justine screamed. "This stupid computer! This goddamn ship! Where is my family?" Justine grabbed a photo frame and ripped it open. "I have PICTURES. I have proof." She smashed the empty frame and held the photograph up to her face. "Mom?" she groaned, anguished.

* * *

"I have to tell you, Picard, this is absolutely unbelievable, but it all checks out." Commander Stevens, Starfleet attorney, shuffled his paperwork. "Four years ago Miranda Bouley created J375, an organic being that looked like your normal, human, Starfleet cadet. She activated Justine, pushed her in the right direction, and none of us were the wiser. Including Justine. Unbelievable."

Picard grunted his agreement, one hand across his mouth. "Does this woman have any legal claim over Justine?"

"Oh, I'm sure she'll get the patents. No one else can even come close to this technology."

"I beg your pardon, Commander?"

"The patents. She's already applied for several." Commander Stevens leaned forward, eyes hard and glittering. "Imagine the possibilities. We will be able to implant _memories_. Not just facts, not just out-of-context knowledge, but _experience_. It's the end of schooling! We'll have child surgeons. Pilots that never needed a flight simulator. Generals who have fought in every battle in history."

"You're not serious." Captain Picard leaned backwards in distaste. "Do you realize what this woman has done? She deluded my ensign for years and then stripped her of everyone she ever loved in an instant."

Commander Stevens' eyes narrowed. "You're not looking at the bigger picture. I _personally_ nominated Miranda for this year's Nikenzy award. We've got a shuttle ready to take her and J375 back to Earth tomorrow."

"You will refer to my crew by their proper names." Picard's voice was soft but threatening.

Commander Stevens paused, and stared at Picard through one eye as though sizing him up. "Now I'm going to beg your pardon. You do realize 'Justine' is a fake name. We're taking her with us tomorrow."

"Justine Riley does not leave this ship."

* * *

Justine couldn't sleep, again. It had been four days since Miranda Bouley arrived, and she had barely caught an hour a night. She kept every light in her quarters on at full power. She kept the view screen on Xylaxian Video Music Now! but with the volume off so that her room was in a constant, silent barrage of color. Her eyes dried out and her lips cracked, but she didn't sleep, she couldn't.

In the morning she ordered breakfast from the replicator, but then let it sit in the wall while she dressed. She never ate it.

As she left her room the two security guards peeled themselves from the wall to follow her, silently. Even though Miranda and her associate were no longer aboard the Enterprise, she and her lawyers were barking at Starfleet every hour of every day, threatening to get Justine in their possession by any means necessary. And so, Justine learned to ignore the security guards at her back.

There was a sudden hush in engineering when Justine entered, as if all of the ensigns had been talking about her. Justine glared at them, and then turned to her terminal to upload her maintenance schedule. The guards positioned themselves a discreet distance away.

Geordi looked up when she entered. Her scowl sent a shiver across his shoulders – usually she was all smiles, especially for the other ensigns. With a determined pout, he strode across the deck to stand beside her.

"Justine, how are you?"

Justine didn't look up from her work. "You're not asking _me_ what's wrong, commander. You're asking J375. If you were asking _me_ there wouldn't be anything to ask. Because this would just be another ordinary day."

"Justine, if you need time off, you can take as long as you need."

Justine laughed, darkly, still without looking up. "And go where? I'd rather keep busy."

"That's fine." He paused. "If you need me, I'm here." Geordi put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, shrugging her shoulder with a jerk. Geordi drew back as if burned. Justine hammered on her touch screen, her face red and eyes puffy. Geordi swallowed. Just a few days ago she had wound her fingers around his for comfort, and now this? Geordi felt rejected, and then immediately embarrassed for feeling rejected. He was her commanding officer, it didn't matter what she thought of him. And anyways, this had nothing to do with him…

Geordi realized he was still standing beside her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and walked past her.

Throughout the day, Geordi was again thankful for the deceptive nature of his VISOR … it allowed him to keep one eye, sometimes both, on Justine, while still appearing to be reading maintence files or scanning circuitry. He was watching when, shortly after lunch break, Justine shoved one of the other ensigns, swearing and calling him stupid.

Anger swelled. That sort of thing didn't happen on his engineering deck. "Ensign Riley, my office, now."

Justine slammed down her work and stalked to his office. Geordi came up behind her and could hear her fuming through her nose.

"Justine, what happened?"

"Ensign Francis didn't do the assigned reading. It's not my problem if he can't tell a negative couple from a warp field."

Geordi shook his head. "I'm probably not the best one to tell you this, but this isn't the Justine I know."

"The Justine you know?" Justine took a large, sobbing gulp of air. "The Justine you know? The one with the fake memories and the fake family and the fake, vapid, bubbling demeanor? The one who smmmmiles and giggles and her whole life is perfect because she has nothing but happy wholesome memories?" Justine hid her face in her hands. "So many, many memories and none of them real. And that's the Justine you know. The Justine she created. How do you know who I am? Maybe this is the real Justine. Maybe this, this is who I really am and if you don't like it you'll just have to deal, Geordi."

"Let's take a walk and find counselor Troi."

"No! No more talking, no more thinking, no more remembering things that weren't. Ever. There. I'm done, and I just want everyone to leave me the hell alone. Especially you."

The sarcasm in her voice stung. "You're dismissed, Ensign." Geordi couldn't help the edge of anger in his voice. "Go to your quarters, I'm calling the counselor."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Yes, I can. Your quarters and that's an order."

Justine made a rude gesture and stalked off. Geordi doubted she was actually heading back to her room, but he knew the guards would follow her, where ever she went. Geordi sighed and tapped his comlink. "Counselor Troi?"


	5. Bargaining

Almost as swiftly as her anger had appeared, it suddenly drained out of her. Justine slept, ignoring her door when it chirruped. Occasionally she rose from her bed, stumbled to the replicator, and requested a candy bar, or a boiling hot cup of coffee. She drank it too fast on purpose and then stumbled back into bed. She slept for three days, straight. She slept rather than face the reality that was slowly boiling outside her door.

Starfleet had yielded to Miranda's lawyers, and there was going to be a trial. Picard fought hard to keep his cool as the information fed in over his computer. The Enterprise was ordered to dock at Headquarters 111409 so that Starfleet could legally determine whether Justine Riley was Miranda's property… or not. It stunk of slavery, and furthermore, Picard thought this particular battle won when Data had been declared sentient.

Riker was equally grim. "We'll represent her, of course."

Picard nodded, running his hand across his mouth. "I thought we were done with this nonsense."

Several floors down, Counselor Troi was waking Justine. "You need to get up. You need to eat something."

Justine groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She was crying. "Just leave me alone."

"I can't do that Justine, you need to get out of bed."

"No!" Justine pushed herself deeper towards sleep.

"Come on, we're going to engineering."

There was a pause under the bedsheets. "Why?"

"Lieutenant LaForge ordered a new drive shaft, and he wants you to install it."

"On my own?"

"On your own."

That finally got Justine up. "I want a shower first."

"Good."

And so she showered, and ate a little cereal, and blinked in the suddenly harsh light of the corridor. They made their way to engineering, which was blessedly empty, except for Geordi, who was holding the drive shaft, still in its manufacturer's packaging.

"Here."

"Thanks," Justine whispered, hugging the bulky package to her chest. She didn't meet his gaze, but tottered off slowly, out of sight around the warp coil. There were a few seconds of silence, and then the unmistakable sound of the package being torn into.

"Thanks," Geordi whispered to Troi. "It's good to see her again… I was starting to worry."

Troi sighed. "I know. I think we're all worried." Troi glanced at the nearest timescreen. "I'm supposed to meet with the Captain and Will now. We're preparing a defense."

Geordi shook his head. "If there's anything I can do…"

"We'll let you know."

On the other side of the warp coil, an installation drill screamed, and then a metallic clang. Troi left.

Geordi let Justine work in silence, and in privacy, sitting at a terminal in the other side of engineering, half heartedly perusing the latest issue of Engineering Today. He could hear her working, steadily, by the sounds of the welding and the drive shaft grinding into place. An hour or two later, there was silence.

He looked up to see Justine standing a few feet away, arms crossed, head down. "I finished," she whispered.

"That was fast."

"I'm very good." It was such a flat statement that Geordi checked.

"Mind if I take a look?"

"No, I left the wall panel open so that you could." She followed behind Geordi, meekly.

Geordi ran his tricorder over the new installation, checking the seams and the flow rate. "Looks excellent," he said. "Well done, Ensign." He glanced back at her. Her head was still down, and he watched a tear fall and land on the floor. "Justine?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you!" Justine blurted out. "I'm so sorry. And I promise I won't ever yell at the other ensigns again. I'll come back to work every day and work twice as hard again, I'm very good at my job just please, please don't let them take me away."

"Justine," Geordi said, leaning in, shocked. "Justine, no one is going to take you away. I know you're sorry, and it's ok. You're a good kid."

"Just a kid?"

Geordi swallowed. "You're a good ensign," he modified. "And no one can take you away from –" Geordi stopped. He had been about to say "from me," but swiftly changed it to "from us."

Justine stepped closer. Geordi fought the urge to step back in kind. She was suddenly too close for comfort. She put one arm around his neck, her fingers resting gently at his hairline. Geordi froze. With a small, hesitant breath, Justine leaned forward and kissed the corner of his jaw.

For half a heartbeat, Geordi couldn't think at all. And then a single idea came: _Do something!_ Horrified even as he moved, Geordi pushed her away, abruptly, roughly. Justine stumbled.

"Ensign Riley," he said. "That was completely inappropriate." He shook his head in amazement.

"Why?" Riley breathed, drawing an uneven breath. "Lieutenant – you have to – "

"Have to report you? Because you're gunning for that."

Riley's eyes flew wide. "You wouldn't –"

"Justine, what do you want me to do?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I thought – you – maybe you, out of everyone – but no. You don't." She wiped at her eyes furiously and sniffed.

"Don't _what_?"

"No one wants me." Justine shook her head. "That makes it easier for _her_, I suppose."

"Justine…" Geordi whispered. "You have to know that's not true…"

"Prove it." she whispered back.

Geordi wrapped both his hands around her shoulders. His VISOR showed him as a blush swept up her neck and into her face. He could literally see her pulse hammering. "There are a lot of ways to care for someone, Ensign. And I do care about you - we all do - it's just..."

She tore himself from his grasp. At the door she turned, risking one last glance back at Geordi. Then she lowered her eyes and swept out of engineering.


	6. Data

"On the lips?" Troi asked, eyebrows raised.

Geordi shook his head. "No, here." He touched his jaw.

"What did you do?"

"I…" Geordi sat back in the therapist's chair. "Pushed her away. Told her she was out of line."

Troi took a deep breath. "Do you regret that?"

"Regret? There's no regret – because – there can't – Counselor." Geordi took off his VISOR, rubbing his temples. "I'm her commanding officer."

"That… certainly complicates the issue. But your rank aside, how do you feel about her?"

"Can't you tell?" Geordi was puzzled.

"This isn't about me. This is about you and _your_ feelings. And owning up to them. So tell me, Geordi," Troi leaned forward sympathetically. "How do you feel about her?"

* * *

Data rang her doorbell for a second time. He waited, patient, as always. He calculated another 4.72 seconds was appropriate before he should ring the bell again.

Justine opened the door. Data automatically scanned her. Her hair contained 75% more grease then the previous six times she had passed through his field of vision. Her skin was 10% more flushed, based on the same data set. In addition, her body temperature was 0.4 degrees higher than was advisable for humans, and her eyes were experiencing significant vasodilation. Conclusion: dehydration, sleep deprivation, and inadequate personal hygiene. However, all fluctuations were below the threshold for comment. "Hello, Ensign Riley," he said.

Justine wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her Starfleet hooded sweatshirt. "Data? Did you need something?"

"I have come to pay a social call. I believe that I may offer some insight into your current situation. In addition, I would like to solicit comment on my latest artistic endeavors."

Justine glanced at the easel and art case that Data had tucked under one arm. "Did Counselor Troi send you?"

"No. However, I did consult her as to the appropriateness of this visit. I also wanted the opportunity to visit my little toe."

Justine wrapped one hand around the frequency converter on her wrist. Data's little toe was inside, a relic of her encounter with the Romulans. "Was... that a joke?"

"Was it amusing?"

Justine felt the smallest of smiles pull at the corners of her mouth. "Not really. Uh.. you can come in." She stepped aside and Data walked into the room.

Justine suddenly realized just how dirty she had let her quarters become. Embarrassed, she began snatching at clothes and threw them into the bedroom. When she turned back around, Data was setting up two easels.

"This is my most recent painting," Data said, setting a canvas on his stand and removing its cover. Justine edged closer to see.

"What is it?" she asked.

"This is my interpretation of the quantum states of an electron."

Justine tipped her head to one side, studying the painting. "Oh."

Data handed her a palette and brush. "The blank canvas is for you."

"For me?" Justine gripped the brush awkwardly in her fist.

"Yes."

"I don't know how to paint."

"I can certainly advise you on several techniques and schools of thought. However, the purpose of this exercise is free expression as a means of therapy."

"Troi did send you."

"I am incapable of lying." Data turned to look at her, and Justine felt herself suddenly locked in his gaze. "I am suggesting this particular exercise because I found it very helpful myself."

Justine was still staring, blinking.

"When you paint, you create something that is uniquely yours. I find it a meaningful exercise."

Justine looked at the palette in her hand. With a sudden vengeance she stabbed into the orange paint and then smeared a single line across the canvas. Data had returned to his own painting, quietly. Justine punched the brush into the green paint, and then fiercely dragged it across the canvas, reveling the feeling of the paint, the violence of the colors, the muddy mess she was making. She painted, painted without thinking, without emotion, swirling the colors into a crazy, meaningless mess. She shocked herself, when, ten minutes later, she stabbed the paintbrush, pointed end first, into the canvas, splattering paint across her sweater, her face.

Data turned. "An interesting addition," he said. "It is invocative of Kerellian Post-Modernism."

Justine snorted. "It's stupid."

"Hardly. You have created seven distinct brown hues by overlapping every color available in varying concentrations."

"Eh." Justine began to droop a little, and Data took her palette from her.

"This is only your first attempt. Do not be disappointed."

"I'm not… disappointed." Justine felt unexpected tears well up in her eyes.

"Perhaps another canvas?"

Justine nodded. Data replaced her easel with a new, clean board. "Here," he said, wrapping her fingers around the brush, careful not to apply more than 1500 torr of pressure.

Justine sniffled, and this time regarded the blank canvas solemnly. "I don't know what to paint."

"You may paint anything."

"Mmh." Justine drew a yellow circle absently.

Data visited her again the next day, bringing a fresh set of supplies. When Justine opened the door Data's automatic scan indicated a 56% decrease in the grease in her hair, 20% decrease in the flush of her skin, and a 92.3% decrease in the vasodilation of her eyes. Conclusion: Increase in both sleep and personal grooming. Corollary: Justine was again functioning within acceptable parameters. "Hello, Ensign Riley."

"Hi Data." She did not smile, but her pupils dilated 3%. A common human reaction to a pleasant situation. "Come in."

Data again set up a new canvas, this time for each of them.

"Finish your electron painting?" Justine asked, accepting her pallete.

"Yes. I have given it to Chief O'Brien."

"Oh, I bet he liked that." Justine swallowed and stared at the canvas. "A blank slate is so intimidating."

"I initiate a random processing sequence to suggest topics for my art."

"Would you suggest a topic for me?" Justine asked.

"Why would you need my programming, when you have your own faculties at your disposal?"

"Er. I dunno." Justine picked a color. "Just don't laugh, ok?"

"I will not laugh." Data said solemnly.

Justine began the crude outline of the warp drive, in a bronze metallic shade. She painted the coils a bright yellow in gently curved rings. She belatedly added a background, and an observation deck around the perimeter. It looked like a child's drawing to her, and she stepped back from it uncertainly. "Can you tell what it is?"

Data glanced at her painting. "It is a crude likeness of the warp engine."

Justine's face drooped a little. "Yeah. It's… not very good."

"No."

Justine had to laugh at that. "You don't pull any punches, do you, Data?"

"I would never hit you, Ensign Riley. My programming expressly forbids it."

Justine laughed, the first laugh in this long, terrible week. She laughed and laughed and laughed until she began to cry, without even realizing it.

"Why are you crying, Ensign?"

"_I don't know._ I've been crying so much I can't even remember why I'm crying anymore."

Data looked down at her. "Justine, I envy your humanity. I could not cry if I wanted to."

"I don't want to cry anymore," Justine said, wiping at her eyes. "I'm sick and tired of this. Of everything."

"In ten days your legal status will be determined. Perhaps afterwards you will feel more at ease."

Justine felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She sat heavily on her sofa. Her hands began to tremble.

"Have I said something to offend you?"

"Data, oh my god, Data, what if they say I'm not human? What if they say I belong to her?"

"Captain Picard and Commander Riker will undoubtedly provide you with the best legal counsel possible."

"Are they good?"

"In my experience, yes."

"So, they'll win?"

"Possibly."

"Possibly?" Justine's voice raised an octave, a sign of distress.

"You are approaching a dangerously high rate of respiration," Data commented. "It is advisable that you take deeper, longer breaths."

Justine shot him a look that would have quailed a human, but the effect was lost on the android. He continued to stare patiently.

"Data, what if they loose?"

"There are always alternatives. It has been my experience that Captain Picard would never knowingly submit a crew member to a dangerous situation."

That last comment seemed to calm Justine, although she gripped the edge of the sofa with both hands. "Ok, ok," she said, to herself. "It's ok." She raised her gaze back to his face.

"How do you stand it, Data? Knowing that somebody _made_ you?"

"We are all created, Ensign Riley, whether through the material workings of others or through natural reproduction. But once the creator relinquishes control we are very much individuals. This painting is yours, not hers," Data said. "You are not hers. You are more than the sum of your programs." Data paused. "As am I."

"You really believe that?" Justine asked.

"I am incapable of lying."

Justine closed her eyes, squeezing out the last few tears. "Thank you," she whispered.


	7. Twenty Percent Below Normal

"I'm not going." Justine pouted as she added droopy bird-V's to her landscape.

"Is there a reason for your refusal?" Data asked, applying another brush stroke to his canvas.

"Gah, I don't even know Commander Desi that well."

"The majority of personnel will be attending, regardless of their professional relationship to the groom."

"I don't want to go. I don't want to bother getting all dressed up. It's a waste of time."

"Attending a wedding is a human tradition."

"What are you saying?" Justine demanded. "That I should go because I'm human?" Her next bird was fat from her angry brush stroke.

"Yes." Data put down his brush and turned to face her. "We attend these events to celebrate life, humanity, and the connections between one another. Do not labor under the delusion that I speak to you as another android. If there is one thing I have learned from Enterprise, it is that everyone, from the Captain to the newest Ensign, struggle with their sense of self." He paused. "Come to the wedding."

Justine swallowed. "Ok."

Data began to pack up his easel. "I will call for you at 18 hundred hours."

"Call for me?"

"Yes. If that is an acceptable time."

Justine unconsciously put one hand to her hair. "Yes, that's fine."

Data left. Justine walked foggily to her bedroom to clean herself up, wondering if she had a date with an android.

When the door chimed again at 18 hundred hours, Justine was ready and waiting. She ran her hands over her blue dress and answered the door. Data stood stiffly in front of her, and he was not in uniform. Justine couldn't help running her eyes up and down his gray suit, his brown turtleneck. "You're wearing clothes!"

"I am nearly always clothed."

Justine blushed deeply. "No, I mean civilian dress. I've never seen you out of uniform before."

"Is this an acceptable outfit?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose. Me too?"

Data scanned her. "Yes, you appear to be dressed adequately."

Justine chuckled a little. "Thanks, Data." She stepped out of her quarters. "You sure know how to charm a lady."

"I am programmed in multiple techniques."

Justine pealed out in laughter, ending with a snort. "You're ridiculous."

"I am perfectly serious."

"I know, and that's what makes you ridiculous. Let's go." Justine slipped her arm around his, and Data, ever accommodating, bent his arm at the elbow. They entered the chapel together, and found seats beside each other. Justine couldn't help but notice that Geordi was there. She thought maybe their eyes met for a second, but of course, with that visor, she couldn't be sure. Data asked a question, but Justine had to shake her head and ask him to repeat it.

Across the room, Geordi watched Justine lean in towards Data. He watched her smile at him, watched a flush of warmth creep up her neck. He snapped his attention away from her, but his visor seemed to be malfunctioning, showing him the after image of her infrared body contrasted against the hard, cold outline of the android.

The wedding was simple, and short. Captain Picard presided over the ceremony, which was followed by a selection of traditional Immankan wedding music – Commander Desi was Immankan. Justine clapped politely along with the crowd, and, in spite of herself, couldn't help admiring the groom's stiff tuxedo and the bride's traditional white dress. They made a pretty couple, she thought.

The reception was in ten forward. Justine found herself at a table with Data, Chief O'Brien, and Keiko, his wife. Keiko immediately complimented Justine on her dress and hair, and Justine returned the sentiments. She found herself chatting easily with the older woman about fashion and the latest Earth pop music. Food was served, and Justine dished in, and helped herself to more than one glass of synthehol. Data sipped and ate politely, though certainly not with the same gusto as the rest of his table. As the servers cleared away the last of the dessert plates, a band began to play.

Justine paled a little. Chief O'Brien and Keiko stood to dance. Justine began to twist her napkin between her fingers. Data turned to her slightly.

"Don't ask me to dance," she snapped.

Data returned to his previous orientation.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Justine was the first to speak. "Is that Commander Riker playing trombone?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

The silence stretched out again.

"I can instruct you in proper dance technique," Data said, eventually. "I have taken several lessons myself."

Justine shook her head. "I'm too embarrassed."

"Why?"

"I've… been a bit of a spectacle lately. A freak. I can't stand the thought of anyone watching me."

Data scanned the room. "Twenty two point eight percent of the guests are watching the wedding party. Seventy seven percent of the guests are watching their dance or table partners. One percent of the guests are watching you." Data turned his gaze back to her. "One point two percent, including myself."

The breath caught in Justine's throat. "Oh." His yellow eyes were hard, boring into her. "Ok. Just one dance though, ok?"

"As you wish."

They stood. Data took her hand. It was a striking sensation, cool and smooth, unmoving beneath her own fidgeting fingers. He led her to the dance floor with the unaffected gallantry of his programming. They turned to face each other, and Justine blushed again, uncertain where to put her hands. Data, stiffly, took her waist with one hand, holding his other aloft. Justine took a step closer, and put one hand on his shoulder, and held his free hand with the other.

Geordi turned suddenly back to the bar. He cursed the VISOR that let him see, in infrared detail, the way Justine's heart rate shot up as the android took hold of her. The way she blushed, flushing white hot on his viewscreen. He pushed his half-finished drink away from himself. Guinan pulled it away. "Geordi," she said, quietly.

"I don't want any 'sage advice,' Guinan."

"When have I ever given 'sage advice?'" Guinan washed out his glass. "I just tend bar."

"He shouldn't be with her," Geordi mumbled.

"And why's that?"

Geordi pressed his lips together, frustrated, silent.

Justine, on the dance floor, was rapidly discovering that Data was a horrible, horrible dancer. She tried to follow his stiff, mechanical lead, but found herself mostly tripping over her feet. Or his feet.

"Are you enjoying this dance, Ensign Riley?"

Justine decided on brutal honesty. "No. I … I think I want to go home. Walk me home?" She met his eyes, pleading.

"Certainly." Data dropped the dance pose, and Justine breathed a sigh of relief. She preceded him as they left ten forward. Geordi watched them go, astonished. It was one thing to arrive with the android, quite another to leave with him. Was he taking her back to her place? To _his_ place? Geordi felt sick.

Geordi was not the only one to watch the pair leave. Commander Riker and Captain Picard watched them go, wearing similar frowns. "Perhaps we should have been more … specific, Captain," Riker said, quietly.

"Data would never do anything untoward." Picard said. "He understands his role in this. Observation, nothing more."

"I think we may have neglected 'nothing more.'" Riker met Picard's eyes, his eyebrows raised.

"Nonsense."

Geordi left the bar. He stormed to the holodecks, all of which were empty. He shut himself into the first. "Computer," he said, "Image of Riley, Justine. Ensign."

She flickered into existence in front of him, wearing the polite smile of a cadet being photographed.

Geordi took a breath. "Justine. You can't do this to me. You're young, you're pretty, but you're my _ensign_. For God's sake, what _have_ you done to me? It's not fair, you don't deserve – I don't deserve – there's no _reason_ I should be so…" Geordi swallowed. "So in love," he whispered. "You – you brave little slip of a thing. You could've died, trying to save us from the Romulans, and who was there to catch you? Data." Geordi closed his eyes beneath his visor. "And now you're the one in trouble and who's there to catch you? Data." Geordi shook his head. "No, no, I should be the one to protect you. You're my ensign. Oh, Justine," he whispered. "I wanted to kiss you, too. That might have been my only chance and I blew it, and…" He looked at the unmoving, happy hologram before him. "I'm sorry."

He drew a breath. "Computer, end program."

* * *

Justine hesitated at her door, suddenly afraid. She turned back to Data. "Would you like to come in?" She kicked herself a little. Data didn't have emotions, he couldn't 'like' anything.

"Yes."

"Oh, ok." The door slid open and they entered. Why did Data suddenly have her on edge? "Do you want a drink?" She kicked herself again. Did Data ever 'want,' anything?

"No thank you," Data said. "I have reached my internal capacity for liquids."

"Ah well, I'm going to," she fumbled with the replicator, dropping her glass. It shattered.

Data stepped up behind her. "Are you alright, Ensign?"

Justine shivered, trying not to cry. "No-o! I was having such a good time!"

"Then why are you malfunctioning?"

"Tonight – made me remember everything I have to lose!" She hugged herself, rocking back and forth. "The wedding was so n-nice and Miranda will k-k-kill me!"

"That is an unlikely conclusion. She would not benefit by your death."

"You weren't there, Data," Justine hiccupped. "She – can – stop – my – heart."

Data ran a few propriety programs before reaching down and taking hold of one of Justine's hands, directing it to the depression on his side. "This," Data said, "is my off switch."

"Wha-what?" Justine stopped sniveling.

"I have told very few people of its existence. Please do not disclose its existence to anyone else."

Justine held still, worried she might accidentally turn him off. "Oh, Data… I didn't know."

"It is not common knowledge."

"Yes, I … thank you. I'm… honored." Justine felt she should move her hand, but was suddenly reluctant. "Doesn't it frighten you, to have an off switch?"

"No. I am incapable of feeling fear. Does Miranda frighten you?"

She took a shuddering breath. "Yes."

"The captain and crew, myself included, will do everything we can to protect you. Is that a comforting statement?"

Justine shook her head slightly. "What if that's not enough?"

Data's programming was working frantically. Imput: history of interactions with one Riley, Justine. Apply weighted emphasis to: tonight's events. Search: comfort AND friendship:unconditional AND human female AND courage. A strategy presented itself, with R2 success twenty percent below normal parameters. Test for initial response. Data touched her left cheek bone with half the standard pressure. Pupil response: positive. Heart rate: forty percent increase. He inclined his head towards her, and pressed his mouth against hers.

Justine gave a little gasp. His lips were fine, cold velvet.

Data withdrew his kiss, end program. Justine was speechless. Result: failure. Data stepped backwards. Justine reached out to him. "No, don't..."

"Do not what, Ensign Riley?"

"Go," she breathed. "Don't go."


	8. Grief

Geordi didn't sleep. Couldn't. One moment he would swear to himself he'd never look at her again. The next, he'd decide that if he didn't tell her how he felt – immediately – he'd explode. Then he would decide that this was no time to play with her emotions – and seconds later he'd be convinced he'd never have another chance.

At eight hundred hours he couldn't take it anymore. He dressed, snapped his visor in place, left his quarters. He walked down the hall in fits and starts, still unconvinced he was doing the right thing. He found himself across from Justine's quarters, unable to ring the bell.

He started when the door opened of its own accord. Data exited the room - wearing the same suit he'd worn to the wedding reception. Geordi felt the floor spin a little and he took a step back to balance himself.

"Data?"

"Good morning, Geordi," Data said. "Ensign Riley is currently asleep. I suggest you return at a later hour."

"Did you spend the _night_?" Geordi spat.

Data took 0.004 seconds to run a rarely used ethical query. "I believe that is a personal question for the Ensign."

Geordi let out a little half-laugh. "Oh – my, god."

Data straightened his jacket. "Excuse me, I must prepare myself for helm duty."

He turned sharply to leave, and something inside Geordi broke.


	9. Puppet

Justine stared at her hands, folded, against the table. Wooden table, she said to herself. Don't faint. Don't faint. This is a wooden… table. I've got Counselor Troi to my right, Commander Riker to my left, and Captain Picard to _his_ left. Breathe. Breathe. Keep breathing, don't throw up.

Riker shifted beside her. Oh God, she's going to faint. He'd had enough women faint on him to recognize the signs. He covertly slipped his hand inside his jacket for a barbiturate, and then passed it into her lap. She unfolded her hands quietly and felt for the hypospray, and then jammed it into her thigh. Riker heard her sharp intake of breath, followed by a sigh of relief. Justine's head cleared, a little, enough to raise her eyes as Miranda Bouley entered the courtroom.

Miranda wore a smirk, and a dark gray suit. She and her lawyer took their seats at the prosecuting table.

"All rise," the bailiff intoned, and Riker put a hand beneath Justine's elbow to haul her to her feet. "The honorable Judge Farah Marq presiding."

The judge entered, her blonde curls pinned severely against her head. She was frowning slightly as she sat herself into the judge's chair. "Sit," she said, brusquely.

Justine collapsed back into her chair.

"The prosecution may begin."

Miranda stood. "Your honor, I am about to present absolutely irrefutable evidence which proves that I, and I alone, created the organic android J357, also known as 'Justine Riley.' I created it from a mixture of organic compounds and synthesized nucleic acids. While it is capable of talking and walking, it is as much my possession as a computer, or a charming toy. I here present my signed and dated notebooks, clearly outlining every step of the manufacturing process. I have had seven independent patent lawyers certify these notebooks as sound and legally binding. You honor may peruse these at your convenience, these are all copies." Miranda passed a thick stack of notes to the bailiff, who gave them a perfunctory search and handed them to the Judge, who rifled through them, impassively. Miranda continued. "I'd like to play exhibit A, a video diary of the creation of J357."

The judge nodded, and Miranda pulled a remote control from her pocket, pointing it at the viewscreen. An image of Justine appeared on the screen. She was staring forward, vacantly. At the bottom of the screen was the stardate for June of four years ago. Miranda's voice came from off camera. "State your name."

"J357," Justine said, flatly.

"State your code name."

"Justine Riley." Just as flat.

"Diagonostic."

Justine spat out a long, long string of numbers, faster than humanly possible, ending with "All systems running."

"Initiate personality subtype 3, demo."

"Hi," Justine's face slipped into its wry, welcoming smile – the left corner of her mouth higher than the other. "My name's Justine Riley, pleased to meet you. Where are you from?"

"Initiate personality subtype 24, demo."

Justine teared up. "I'm sorry I yelled at you! I'm so sorry…"

Geordi, sitting in the public seats, flinched. Justine, at her table, was trembling. Miranda grinned, sharp-toothed as a shark. "You see," she said, switching off the video, "J375 is autonomous but fully programmable android. And, your honor, I would like to call it to the stand."

Justine paled to the point where she looked green. Riker put a hand between her shoulder blades. "Just like we practiced," he whispered. Justine nodded and stood, walking shakily around the table, trailing one hand across the wood for balance. She stepped into the witness stand, putting most of her weight on her arms, and lowering herself down slowly.

Miranda smiled, sniffed, and ran her thumb under her nose as she approached. "Tell me, Justine, what did you study at Starfleet?"

Justine cleared her throat. "I majored in starship engineering, and specialized in warp c–"

"Activate code 1, authorized Miranda."

Justine broke off mid-sentence. Her back straightened, her jaw snapped shut. Her head snapped up and forward, her eyes blank, her arms loose at her side. Miranda turned to smirk at Captain Picard and Riker, and then turned back to address the judge. "Your honor, this is a puppet, completely under my control. J375, stand."

Justine stood, robotically, still staring forward with the same blank eyes. "Clap your hands three times." Justine did, the sound echoing dully.

Miranda turned to the judge. "She'll break her own neck if I tell her to." Miranda reached inside her jacket and removed a phaser. Before the bailiff could react, Miranda placed it on the witness stand. "J375, kill Captain Picard."

Justine grabbed the gun, deftly set it to kill, aimed, and fired.


	10. Hazard

Worf vaulted the barrier between him and the captain, cursing himself for not being closer. He listened with dread for the sizzle of the phaser, prepared to throw himself between the second shot and the captain.

That sizzle never came. There was no shot, only silence. Justine lowered the phaser and Miranda grinned. The bailiff grabbed at Justine's wrist, clumsily knocking the phaser away. Jerking at her hands, he cuffed them in front of her. The judge banged her gavel for silence. "Explain yourself," she snarled at Miranda.

"Never charged the phaser," Miranda said. She turned towards the captain, who was gripping both arms of his chair, white knuckled with rage. "But I could have. And now you know what you're dealing with."

Miranda looked up at the judge. "This puppet is a hazard to herself and others. She belongs with someone who understands her completely, who can control her completely. She belongs with her creator. The prosecution rests."

Miranda began to walk back to her seat. "Oh," she said, half turning. "Deactivate code 1, authorized Miranda."

Justine began talking again "-coil thermal plas…" she trailed off, looking down at her shackled hands, and then around to the courtroom. Her eyes flicked over to Miranda, who grinned broadly.

"Bailiff, take the witness into protective custody. Captain Picard, Dr. Bouley, I will see you both of you in my chambers, immediately."

The bailiff hauled on Justine's arm, and she stumbled out of the witness stand. "What's going on?" she said, resisting. "No, stop it, what's the matter? Stop!" She was being dragged backwards, out of the courtroom. She stumbled, panicked. "Stop!" Her eyes turned desperate as she looked back at the crew. "Counselor Troi!"

"It's alright," Troi called, standing. "We'll come get you in a moment."

"No! Commander! Captain! Geordi?" The courtroom doors swung shut behind them, but they could hear her anguished scream – "DATA!"


	11. NonViable

"She specifically requested me."

"You're not going in there, Data," Riker said, folding his arms. "On my orders." Riker's eyebrows were tightly knit together in a frown, and he leaned against the door, an unspoken accusation in his eyes.

Data hesitated, a fraction of a second. A sliver of a second. For anyone else the delay would have been imperceptibly small, unnoticeable and unnoticed. But Data hesitated, before he turned and left.

* * *

"Captain?"

"Geordi," Captain Picard said. "I need you to review these – tonight." Picard handed a viewscreen across his desk.

"What is it?"

Picard swallowed. "These are Justine Riley's specifications."

Geordi groaned, softly, under his breath. "I'm not reading these. She's a person, not a machine."

Picard shook his head. "These are the technical papers Miranda supplied. We were provided with a copy. I want you to read them and find something – anything – that will help us."

Geordi shook the viewscreen slightly. "It feels wrong. Like looking into her soul."

"That's exactly what I'm hoping you'll find."

* * *

Justine wouldn't look at Troi.

"They're only trying to protect you. Will won't leave, and I won't leave either. It's only for one night," Troi put a hand on her shoulder.

Justine jerked away, and the cuffs around her wrists jangled slightly.

* * *

Geordi replicated himself another iced tea, and brought it back to his desk, slumping into his chair, exhausted. He sipped the tea and scrolled the viewscreen, muttering to himself. Here was Justine, in every aspect – every neuron, every nucleotide, every freckle and eyelash and smile. The color of her eyes, the whisper of her breath, the tumbling of the blood in her veins. He could read her life history, he could calculate her pH, he could estimate her life span.

It felt like spying. Reading her statistics, over and over again.

He paused. Over and over again. He could swear he had read this section on skin regeneration before. He pulled up the file on a larger screen, and scrolled backwards. There. The same description. Twice.

But a small difference: this section described J374.

Justine – his Justine – was J375.

A sudden dark premonition washed over Geordi. Just how many Justines were there? Frantically, he searched the text for descriptions of the other 'J's. Buried in a back file, titled "In Vivo Diagnostics," was a list:

J1-nonviable

J2-nv.

J3-nv.

J4-nv.

The non viable specimens continued into the 100's:

J107-nv.

J108-nv.

And then –

J109-viable, significant neurological impairment. Terminated.

Geordi's hands began to shake, and he lowered his glass of tea sloppily. Terminated. He had a sudden vision of Justine, eyes blank, listless and lifeless. Terminated. Hardly daring, he continued down the list.

Terminated. Terminated. Terminated. Terminated. Over and over again. And then, he came to something much more horrifying.

J313 – viable. Neurological functions acceptable, emotionally unresponsive. Self-terminated.

"She killed herself," he whispered. He stood frantically, chair clattering to the floor, and hit his combadge. "Captain!"


	12. Data Leah Justine

Geordi swallowed a few times as he made his way to the stand. He was the first witness Picard called that day. He sat, and nodded to Picard. He spared a glance at Justine – her thermal image was colder than it should have been, and she was staring at the table in front of her, listlessly.

"How would you describe Ensign Riley?"

Geordi leaned forward. "Exemplary. She's often the first in and the last to leave, and has proven herself an invaluable part of my workforce."

"Can you be more specific?"

"About six months ago, we were having difficulty boosting the warp drive during peak energy consumption hours, and Ensign Riley derived an algorithm to divert power from alternating couple drives, and boosted our efficiency by 17%. I submitted her for a commendation shortly thereafter."

"And how does Ensign Riley interact with the other crewmembers?"

"She's well liked. I often see her joking around during work, and she's usually with a group of friends in ten forward after hours."

"Is there anything unsatisfactory about Ensign Riley?"

Geordi hesitated. "Y-yes…" he said slowly. "She has a … silliness… that is inefficient sometimes. She has a tendency to clown around with the other ensigns when work is slow. I believe that I once submitted her for disciplinary action after she filled Commander Cheswick's shoes with no-goo-glue."

Someone in the audience snorted with suppressed laughter. Geordi thought it sounded like Commander Cheswick's wife.

"But overall she is satisfactory?"

"More than satisfactory. She is one of the finest ensigns I have ever worked with. I am certain that she will have a stellar career." Geordi risked a glance towards Justine. A very small smile fluttered across her face.

"Thank you," Captain Picard said. "No further questions."

"I, however, do have a few questions," Miranda said, standing. "Lieutenant LaForge, I have in my hands a transcript of correspondence between Lietuenant Data and Bruce Maddox. Is the name Bruce Maddox familiar to you?"

"Yes," Geordi said, unable to keep the venom out of his voice. "He argued that Data was not a person, but Starfleet property."

"Yes, very apropos to today's proceedings, don't you agree?"

Geordi gagged on his anger, but Miranda continued before he could speak. "In these letters, Data refers to you as his 'best friend.' Is that an accurate characterization?"

"Data is a very close friend of mine, yes."

"Data the robot?"

"Android."

"Data the android is your best friend? Data, who by its own admission is unable to feel emotions, is your best friend?"

"It is a unique friendship," Geordi felt beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "But it is a friendship."

"Tell me, Geordi, who is Leah Brahms?"

The courtroom went silent. Geordi felt the blood rushing from his face. He fought to keep his hands from shaking. "Leah Brahms designed the Galaxy-class warp drive system." He said quietly.

"Does it interest you to know that I have been communicating with Dr. Brahms?" Miranda approached Geordi slowly. "It says here that you created a holodeck simulation of her, and that you were more than infatuated with it. It. The simulation, not the person. In fact, you and Leah didn't get along that well when you met her in real life, did you?"

Geordi swallowed several times, trying to think of something to say, but Miranda beat him to it. "So let's see. Your best friend is an unfeeling android, you fall in love with hollographic simulations, and J375 is one of your favorite ensigns. I think we're seeing a pattern, here, Commander, I think you and your ocular implants prefer computers and warp coils and holographs to real people. I think that you're the kind of Commander that would rather sit in the corner and play with his toys than – "

"Objection!" Captain Picard stood. "This is irrelevant."

"I'm establishing the witness' credibility."

"Overruled," the judge said severely. "You may continue."

Miranda paused for dramatic effect. "No further questions."

Geordi stood, feeling like his legs were made of pudding. _I've failed her_, he thought. I've failed her. She'll never forgive me, never. He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see the pain and the anger in her face. He walked past the defense table, out of the courtroom, into the hallway, each step faster than the last. He tore his visor off his face, pressed his back to a wall, and sank to the floor.

What if she's right? a small part of Geordi whispered. Data. Leah. Justine. What if I'm the one who… the one who can't connect. Can't be human. Can't love. Geordi's ocular implants began to seize, and the left hand cathode sent out a sudden volley of sparks. He realized he was crying.


	13. The Ensign and the Android

"Disaster," Riker muttered under his breath.

Picard pointedly ignored the fact that Geordi had fled the courtroom. "The defense calls Lieutenant Commander Data."

Justine hiccupped frantically. Riker had a sudden premonition it was going to get worse…

Data rose and went to sit in the witness' stand. Picard cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Data, you have the ability to record your daily experiences, do you not?"

"Yes. Video and audio recording is one of my functions."

Picard turned to the judge. "I have submitted to you four separate rulings which state that Data's video and audio testimony is irrefutable and also admissible as evidence."

"No!" Justine launched herself out of her chair. All heads snapped around towards her. She stared at the Captain, tears in her eyes, her hands clenching the edge of the table. "Please," she whispered into the silent courtroom.

"The defendant will sit," the judge barked. Justine collapsed back into her seat. "I will allow Lieutenant Data's testimony," the judge said, nodding slightly at Picard. Justine buried her face in her hands.

Data opened one of his fingers and plugged it into the projection system outlet.

"Lieutenant Data, please play file 093465773."

_"A blank slate is so intimidating."_

At the sound of her own voice, tinny and thin over the video player, Justine sunk her head into her arms.

_"I initiate a random processing sequence to suggest topics for my art."_

_"Would you suggest a topic for me?" Justine asked._

_"Why would you need my programming, when you have your own faculties at your disposal?"_

_"Er. I dunno. Just don't laugh, ok?"_

_"I will not laugh." _

The video fast-forwarded, Justine's painting taking rapid shape on her canvas.

_"Can you tell what it is?"_

_"It is a crude likeness of the warp engine."_

_"Yeah. It's… not very good."_

_"No."_

_Justine laughed. "You don't pull any punches, do you, Data?"_

_"I would never hit you, Ensign Riley. My programming expressly forbids it."_

_Justine laughed, then cried._

_"Why are you crying, Ensign?"_

_"__I don't know.__ I've been crying so much I can't even remember why I'm crying anymore."_

The film ended. "Lieutenant Data, please play file 093474526."

Data played clip after clip, showed Justine stabbing her own brown-mess painting, Justine red-eyed from crying, Justine dropping her glass and Justine throwing her tricorder and refusing to dance. And then, the tone changed. Picard asked for different files, and these brought up Justine laughing at her own painting, Justine applauding at the wedding, Justine smearing white paint under her eyes and calling it "the Android look," Justine pausing in the hallway to say hello to a colleague's young daughter, Justine trying to explain the premise of a knock knock joke to Data. There were even moments that Justine couldn't remember – or didn't know that Data was watching. In any other setting it would have been a touching montage of a young Ensign's daily life. As it was, Justine wanted to stuff her fingers in her ears from embarrassment.

"Lieutenant Data, please play file 093475699."

Justine stole a glance at the video screen. When she saw herself wearing that blue dress, she felt her stomach drop to the floor.

"_Does Miranda frighten you?" Data's voice asked, softly._

_The Justine on the film took a shuddering breath. "Yes."_

The film ended there, the screen went blank. Justine swallowed, sat back in her chair, and closed her eyes, jaw clenched tight. Riker stole a glance at her sideways, wondering just how much the ensign and the android had to hide.

Fortunately, Miranda was scrambling, frantically flipping through her notes. "I object, you cannot allow this – this man-computer to make statements as to the – the sentience of my creation!"

"I am making no statements," replied Data. "I am displaying real events exactly as they happened."

"Scripted!"

Picard spoke up. "Ensign Riley had no knowledge of being recorded. Lieutenant Data was under express orders, from me, to remain silent about his recordings, and he is unable to disobey a direct order."

Judge Marq slammed her gavel once. "I have already admitted the testimony, there will be no further arguments as to its veracity. The prosecution may cross examine the witness."

"It's a damn computer!" Miranda said in exasperation, gesturing palm up at Data. "I might as well ask a wall questions about quantum physics."

"I know significantly more about quantum physics than inanimate – "

"Silence!" The gavel banged out again. "The prosecution will limit itself to questions."

"None. No questions."

Data stood from the witness' stand, and made his way back towards the audience. As he approached the defense table, Justine looked up at him, a world of anger in her eyes. She fussed with her wrist, undoing the clasp that held her frequency converter. She leaned over Riker and slammed the converter on the edge of the table, just as Data passed.

Few people knew it, but inside the converter was a small portion of one of Data's processing centers, engineered to protect Justine from seizures caused by Romulan sub-space transmissions. Data paused, looking at the converter.

Discrepancy: Justine needed the converter to remain safe from Romulan transmissions, but she has removed the converter from her wrist. Possible conclusion: Justine no longer feels threatened by the Romulans. Further discrepancy: Romulan warships still prevalent within the sector. Possible conclusion rejected.

Possible conclusion: the converter is no longer comfortable on her wrist. Discrepancy: the converter is perfectly tailored to her measurements. Possible conclusion rejected.

Possible conclusion:

Possible conclusion:

Possible conclusion: the converter is no longer comfortable on her wrist because she associates the converter with me. Subset: Testimony has revealed Captain Picard's orders, videorecordings. Subset: Ensign Riley objects to my actions.

Discrepancy potentially resolved.

Data gently lifted the frequency converter from the table. He looked calmly at Justine, searching for additional datasets to confirm his conclusion. She would not look at him.

Conclusion confirmed. Data wrapped his fingers tighter around the converter and continued past her.


	14. Scripted

Picard called his next witness. "Kyle McClellan."

Justine's head swiveled round. "Kyle?" she mouthed, as the ensign made his way from the back of the room. He was a tall, blond, calm-looking young man, and he stopped to nod at Justine before entering the witness stand.

"Ensign McClellan, how do you know Ensign Riley?"

Kyle smiled and leaned forward. "We were cadets together at Starfleet academy. I met her in nuclear chemistry 101."

"And how would you characterize your relationship?"

Kyle blushed slightly. "Romantic. We dated for the last three years of the academy."

"Did you consider yourself in love Ensign Riley?"

A sad smile flirted across his face. "Yes. Very much so." Across the courtroom, Justine returned the same smile.

"And why is that?"

Kyle shrugged. "Lots of reasons. She made me laugh. She knew how to party. She was kind to me, and my family liked her too. We used to spend our summers visiting each other. Once we went to Disneyplanet Mars, it was great."

"Why did your relationship end?"

"We… we got assigned to different starships, and … the distance got between us."

"You have been briefed about Ensign Riley's current predicament, have you not?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that Ensign Riley is sentient?"

"Of course, it's ridiculous to think otherwise."

"Do you think that Ensign Riley is of legal age?"

Kyle's blush deepened to an unfortunate tomato-red. "Yes. She's the same age as me, obviously."

"Thank you, Kyle. The defense rests."

Miranda was busy scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Kyle, did you or Justine end the relationship?"

"Justine did."

"And how?"

"She sent me written communiqué."

Miranda approached the witness stand, folding over the paper she had been writing on. "Do me a favor and hold this." Kyle obliged, warily. "Now," Miranda continued. "Do you remember the exact wording Justine used?"

Kyle frowned. "Ah, yes. She said 'I think we should part ways because the distance between us makes this impossible. I want to focus on my career and I'm not ready to settle down."

Miranda grinned, shark like. "Go ahead and unfold that, and read what I've written, please."

Kyle unfolded the paper. He stared at the writing.

"Read what's written there, Kyle."

Kyle licked his lips. "The distance - " he began, haltingly. "Between us makes this impossible. I want to focus on my career and I'm not ready to settle down." Kyle kept staring at the paper, unable to look away.

Miranda tipped her head to one side. "She was only ever following a script, Kyle. If you enjoyed any of it you've got me to thank." She smirked at him. "Prosecution rests."


	15. Again and Again

Picard stood, gave his tunic a sharp tug, and addressed the judge. "For my final witness I call Dr. Miranda Bouley."

Miranda rolled her eyes as if to suggest she expected what was coming next. She swaggered slightly as she took the stand.

"Dr. Bouley, how long have you worked with artificial intelligence?"

"Forty-nine years."

"And how long, on, specifically, the intelligence you incorporated into Justine Riley?"

"Nineteen years."

"And, as you showed with Ensign McClellan, you believe yourself capable of anticipating her words and actions?"

"Absolutely."

Picard nodded to Commander Riker, who brought him a thick briefcase. Picard opened it carefully, so that the contents were shielded from Miranda's view. "Dr. Bouley, I have here several paintings created by Ensign Riley, could you tell me the subjects of these paintings?"

Miranda stared incredulously.

"There are nine paintings. Please tell me the subject of each painting."

Miranda cleared her throat. "One is a painting of myself – I mean," she stammered quickly. "A self-portrait. A painting of Justine."

"No."

"Well, you know, there are so many different subjects –"

"Name one."

Miranda opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She gestured vaguely towards Picard. "You."

"No."

"It doesn't matter," Miranda said, "She's not programmed to paint."

"But she did." Picard began to pull the paintings, one by one, from the briefcase. Justine recognized them as the artwork she'd created with Data. Had he stolen them from her quarters? She glanced his way, angry, hurt… but the android was staring straight ahead.

Her paintings showed the warp engine, a series of birds across a landscape, a quiet, childish river beside a tree.

"Those – those aren't even any good!" Miranda said, indignant.

"Flawed?" Picard asked. "Fallible?"

"Technically lacking," Miranda said with a sneer. "I can update the next model."

"Ah, yes, models. Let's discuss how many models you've created."

Miranda's mouth snapped shut.

"How many?" Picard asked.

"Justine Riley is the three hundredth and seventy-fifth model I've created."

"And what happened to the others?"

"Not every model was fully functional. There was a continuum of abilities."

"And what happened to the models with diminished abilities?"

"They were non-viable."

"Non-viable?"

"They never spoke or interacted. They were 'dead.'"

"They were dead?"

"They were never alive. None of them were ever alive."

"Did you kill any of the models?"

"That's a stupid question! They were never alive to begin with."

"Then why do you refer to 'terminations' in your notebooks?"

Miranda set her jaw and spoke through clenched teeth. "I recycled the non-viable specimens for parts."

Justine felt the bile rise up in her throat. She gagged, under her breath. Riker began looking for something for her to vomit into.

"How?"

"What do you mean, 'how?'"

"You know exactly what I mean. How did you kill those girls?"

Miranda leaned forward, teeth bared. "They were not 'girls,' they were not anything until I created them. The non viable specimens were re-appropriated with phaser beams. You're trying to make this into some sick fantasy. It was science. And look at her, it worked. I can give a creature memory. I can make perfection."

"You did not. You said it yourself. The paintings are inferior."

"Because I made them that way! You short sighted, dramatic bureaucrat, you're not looking at the whole picture. I can replace entire industries with perfectly trained, perfectly compliant workers! Pilots that never make a mistake! Surgeons that NEVER lose a patient. Perfection!"

"Perfection? We all make mistakes. We should make mistakes, they make us who we are –"

"Yes I thought you were going to pull that, you little snot. We should learn from our mistakes? My creatures don't need to make those mistakes in the first place – the learning is already there. I create whole memories, I create whole minds."

"You sell yourself short, Dr. Bouley, you grow more than grow minds, you grow souls."

"Give me a break."

"What happened to J374?"

Miranda was silent.

"I asked you a question, Dr. Bouley, what happened to J374?"

"J374 was unstable."

"In what way?"

"Mentally."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?"

"It wouldn't stop screaming."

The courtroom was utterly silent.

"What happened to J374?"

"It was mentally. Ill. It didn't have the capacity for rational thought. It managed to steal a penknife from one of its caretakers and it slit its own jugular. It didn't know what it was doing."

"Where was J374 kept?"

"In a pen. It was mentally –"

"Mentally ill? Perhaps she was mentally ill from being kept in a –"

"Lab rats are kept in pens!" Miranda shouted.

"No! You kept people in pens!"

"I don't have to put up with this!" Miranda screamed. "I made her. I can make her again! And again! It's mine. MINE!" She turned a cold eye to Justine. Picard's dark premonition came a moment too late. Miranda licked her lips and spoke – "Activate code 43, authorized Miranda."


	16. Focus

Justine was falling. All the air was leaving her lungs in a frenzied rush. She felt a sharp tug in her rib cage and realized her heart had ceased to beat. Little flashes of light exploded behind her eyes as her head hit the defense table. Her vision narrowed to a point, then blackened.

Justine Riley was dead.

Data's positronic brain was firing at total capacity. _You weren't there, Data, _the electronic memory whispered. _She can stop my heart_. He put one hand over the court railing and jumped over the barrier. The decision to act had taken only 0.000004 seconds. He was completely aware of the consequences, and was prepared to serve time in the brig. His hand closed around Miranda's neck as he lifted her from the witness stand.

Holding her aloft, he tightened his grip. "Say it."

Miranda gasped, purpling. Data decided more specific instructions were necessary. "Deactivate code 43."

Miranda pulled at the android's fingers. "Put! Me!... Down!"

Data overrode his voice volume modulator. "SAY IT."

"Deactivate – code – 43…" she gasped, faintly. "Authorized – Miranda."

Data dropped her. She collapsed, gasping.

Dr. Pulaski hit Justine with another stimulant. "Come on, come on," she gave Justine several quick chest compressions. Nothing. The doctor fumbled in her bag for a defibrillator, and attached the node to Justine's collarbone. "Clear!" she said, and everyone took a step back. With the remote, Dr. Pulaski activated the device, and the air cracked with the sudden hiss of electricity.

Justine convulsed once but then lay, unresponsive.

"Clear!"

Justine convulsed again.

For Geordi, time had stopped. The entire courtroom was on its feet, and he fought his way through the bodies, but he felt sluggish, dreamlike, useless. He had to get to Justine, he had to save her, he –

"Clear!"

Justine convulsed, shuddered, gasped. She coughed, limbs shaking with the effort. "M-mom?"

"Breathe, Justine, breathe."

"I – can't - see –" Justine gasped, eyes wild. "Can't – see – "

"Don't talk. Deep breaths," Dr. Pulaski looked over her shoulder. "Worf, get us out of here."

Justine's head lolled as she felt herself lifted, hefted over a broad shoulder. A chained bandolier wavered in front of her eyes. The sudden movement sent a rush of blood to her head, and she collapsed back into the blackness.

The courtroom was chaos. The judge shouted at the bailiff to take Miranda into custody. Riker was on his feet, yelling at the judge that this was attempted murder, and Data was trying to turn himself into the Captain for assault on a civilian. ("Not _now_, Data!")

Geordi would remember the rest of that day in a haze of confused shouting. He slumped on the nearest bench, shaking. He wanted to run after Justine but for the first time in years, he'd slipped out of neural focus. As good as his implants were, it required a little effort on his part, and his head was swimming. He took several deep breaths and tried to bring the world back into focus.

The judge ordered Miranda cuffed, and Miranda began shouting about her rights. Over the din, the judge ruled that Miranda was to be taken into custody and that court was adjourned, and that she would render her decision the following day.

Geordi felt his arm yanked upwards. "We're going," Riker said. "Let's go." Geordi stumbled.

"I can't see straight," Geordi protested.

"I'm starting to think no one can," Riker said.


	17. The Omitted Hypothesis

In the end, things were alright.

The judge ruled in favor of Justine's sentience, and her autonomy. "I have heard arguments that Justine Riley is perfect and predictable, and I have heard arguments that Justine Riley is fallible and spontaneous," the judge said, addressing the court. "I cannot think of a more human dichotomy. Justine has proven herself as a student and a Starfleet officer, and it is absurd to question her sentience, whatever power Dr. Bouley maintains over her. No one argues that Miranda Bouley did not create Justine," the judge had said. "But much as the law permits a child to be taken from an abusive parent, I liberate Justine Riley from any claims of ownership, and further more prohibit any and all contact between Ensign Riley and Dr. Bouley."

As Miranda was being led away in handcuffs, she managed to lean across the defense table. "Exactly how long do you expect to live without me, Justine?"

Justine met her eyes uneasily.

Miranda smiled. "There are still a few secrets in your programming. Don't you want to know?"

Justine straightened her shoulders and stood a little taller. "No."

Riker clapped Justine on the shoulder in approval. The bailiff dragged Miranda away – forever. Justine swallowed and turned shakily to be led back to sick bay.

Justine had died the previous day – if only for a moment. But that momentary lack of oxygen had been enough to blind her in one eye. She stumbled as Dr. Pulaski helped her back into bed.

"Rest," the doctor ordered, and turned the lights down. Justine rolled over on her side, staring at the panels on the wall. She closed one eye and then the other, testing her eyesight.

Sleep would not come easily. Justine supposed she should feel relief, but all she felt was empty. She had been so worried about losing that she hadn't thought about what it would be like to win. She had won her freedom, but Miranda had won her own battles, too. Justine knew now that every childhood memory was a lie. She knew that she could be brainwashed or killed. She knew that she had lost a family she never really had. She knew that she was alone.

Justine gave up on sleep and sat up, curling her knees up to her chest. For the first time, she felt like an orphan. Who would care for her when she was sick and sad? There were Dr. Pulaski and Counselor Troi, of course. But they were paid to do that. She rested her forehead on her knees.

The door to sickbay slid open. Justine looked up, and Data stepped into the dim light.

"Good evening, Ensign Riley. I have come to return your converter." Data held out the wristband. Justine was silent.

"It is imperative that you wear this," Data said, "As it protects you from subspace Romulan transmissions."

"I know what it does!" Justine snapped.

"Are you angry with me, Ensign Riley?"

"Yes."

"Might I inquire as to the cause of your anger?"

"You _lied_ to me, Data."

"I am incapable of lying. However, I omitted several facts in order to maintain my subsequent credibility as a witness. My testimony may have been valuable in securing your freedom."

"Oh, you saved my life then, did you?"

"Yes."

"And I'm supposed to be grateful?"

"Gratitude is unnecessary. However, you should continue to wear the converter."

"Whatever." Justine thrust her arm out at the android and looked away.

Data stepped forward and clicked the converter into place. "While I was indeed operating under orders from the captain, I maintained complete autonomy over my words and actions. I did not endeavor to deceive you in any way." Data stepped back politely. "I observed parallels between our situations. We have both been accused of being less than human. I hypothesized that assisting you in your humanity would allow me to believe in mine."

Justine turned back to Data. "Did it work?"

"No."

Justine felt wounded, deeply. It was something like heartache and anger and shame and it bubbled up inside of her. "Get out."

Without another word, Data turned and left. Justine put her head back down on her knees and had her first – but not her last – cry over Data.

* * *

_Author's note: thanks so much for the reviews, please feed me more! We're not done yet so stay tuned…_


	18. The End

"All finished." Geordi detached the forceps holding Justine's eye open, and she lost her comically bug eyed look. "Still working out for you?"

Justine blinked a few times. "Yup. Good as new."

It had been more than a year since Geordi had designed and installed Justine's ocular implant. He'd given her the option of infrared and UV vision as well, but Justine had chosen "normal" – just regular, everyday visible light. The tiny implant restored vision in her damaged eye and was hidden behind a colored lens, almost impossible to spot. It required yearly maintenance, but Justine seemed to have adapted well to it.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Justine said, with a smile, and left his office. Almost immediately, the other ensigns broke into a piteously out-of-tune rendition of "Happy Birthday."

"Happy Birthday dear Juuuuuuuuuustiiiiiiiiine," they finished, as Justine grinned and put both hands over her ears in mock horror, "Happy Birthday to youuuuuuu!"

Someone produced a cake with a single candle in the shape of a giant number '6.' Justine laughed. "You guys are jerks," she said, and blew out the six. "I don't look a day over five and a half."

Just when everything seemed right with the world, the red alert sounded. "Battle stations!" someone shouted. The cake was dropped, forgotten, as everyone scrambled to their positions. The entire ship shuddered as someone registered a hit. Justine slid and scrambled to stay upright, and clung to the railing as she dragged herself to her terminal. She paled slightly at what she saw. The exterior of engineering had been hit and was rapidly losing power. Another hit could –

The ship shuddered again, and this time, there was no mistaking it. The warp coil was overheating. A shower of sparks overhead let them know the ship had been hit a third time. Something was wrong with the gravity field, and it felt like the ship was listing dangerously to one side. Justine let go of her terminal and slid along what used to be the floor, ending in a heap near the main warp coil ejectors.

Geordi had the same idea, and he slid awkwardly into place beside her. Justine was already punching in code. "Get it offline?" she shouted over the roar of the red alert.

"Absolutely," Geordi said, throwing the manual decouples. Nothing happened. The increasingly frantic hum of the warp coil stayed constant. Geordi swore, and pulled up the circuitry map. "We've lost command from this station."

The ship listed even more sharply. Justine swallowed. "The other station's…" What used to be a short walk down to the lower deck was now a 900 jump down two floors, with the rapidly overheating warp coil right in the middle. Justine took a deep breath and put one leg over the railing.

"Justine, no!" Geordi grabbed for her, but she had already swung herself over the side. She landed with both feet on the outer shield of the warp coil, wobbled for a precarious second, and then slid off and below with a shriek.

"Justine!"

"I'm ok!" She screamed back, from somewhere underneath the warp coil. Out of his line of sight, Justine mouthed silently in agony. Her ankle was a sudden lightning strike of pain. She hissed as she dragged herself along what used to be the wall – now the floor – and found the other warp coil terminal. She threw the decouplers and was rewarded with the unmistakable whine of the warp coil powering down. She sighed and laid her head against the wall/floor, when gravity was restored in a rush. She found herself flung backwards on to the proper floor, and the wind came out of her in a huff.

"Oooof."

Her head was still ringing when Geordi pulled her upright. Dizzy, she thought perhaps the gravity had shifted again, but then realized the sudden reorientation was Geordi clutching her to him. The red alert stopped ringing, and Justine could hear his ragged breath. "Don't you EVER," he said, "do that again."

Later, in the debriefing, Geordi explained what Justine had done to the senior officers. He wasn't surprised when, a few days later, Captain Picard had asked them both to his ready room. After thanking Justine for her service, he declared that a field promotion was in order.

Geordi glanced at Justine in time to see her eyes widen – in joy, and shock. Picard handed her a new uniform pip and Justine pinned it on with shaking hands. She stammered her thanks, shook both their hands, and when they were dismissed Geordi and Justine wore matching grins, Justine still limping slightly on her newly healed ankle.

In the turbolift back to engineering, Justine postured, throwing her head back so that Geordi could admire the new pip. "Looks great, Lieutenant," Geordi said, brushing his fingers along the new rank. His hand lingered.

"Not your ensign anymore," Justine whispered, teasingly.

"I suppose not," Geordi said, and kissed her.


End file.
